


Half of you

by SBK



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Keith is galran!, M/M, Multi, Other, Sad, Slow Burn, based off of that one movie on Netflix that’s in Chinese, demon orb, lance is Altean!, spirit orb, yin and yang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24941995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBK/pseuds/SBK
Summary: It wasn’t like Lance chose to be born, or chose to be the reincarnation of this stupid “spirit orb or whatever.”It’s not like Keith wanted to fight, it wasn’t like he enjoyed it, he just never had the chance to learn anything else or more.OrThe Galran’s have obtained a majority of the universe in hunt for the spirit orb, in which they want their most prized weapon, the demon orb to absorb to make them an unstoppable empire, all due to petty history. Will Lance and Keith be able to defy destiny, or will one of them be absorbed in a fight to the end?
Relationships: Lance/Keith, hunk/pidge
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

There wasn’t a whole lot I could’ve done back then, when I think about it. I already knew that my fate was what it was, but as I stand here with your pale hand in mine - my last question is why? I know it won’t be answered, but I still can’t help but wonder. 

Why me? And most of all, why you? 

  
  


—- 

When the chaos orb had spun vehemently out of control, knowing neither good nor evil, as it devoured mountains and towns and cities - king Alfor summoned a powerful spell, entrapping the chaos orb to run rampant inside of it. He managed to, inside of this spell, separate the two pieces - removing chaos from purity - until there were two swirling orbs before him. To his most powerful ally, Zarkon, he handed over the orb of chaos - knowing if anyone could properly maintain it, it would be him. 

To his own daughter, he would hand over the purity orb, festering with a blue light. 

But alas, Zarkon was jealous - seethingly so. Why was he handed the chaos orb? Something so disgusting… something so impure. 

This would be the start of a long, long war. 

  
  


—-

  
  


“Lance, your master wants to talk to you.” Lance’s mother said, peaking into his room before she dipped throughout the remainder of the house, picking and pulling any loose clothing she could get her hands on. She was preparing to take it to the river to be washed. Lance, however, could not find the energy to force himself from the comfortable confines of his bed. 

Spiritual orb. That’s him, the Altean princess’ apprentice - he’s heard the story of how he came to be many times. The chaos orb, how out there there’s another half of him - and how he has to be the one to destroy it. 

He heard tales of the Altean princess searching wide and far, from planet to planet before settling on an earth born family - for some reason - and giving them the spirit orb - for their third son that is. And unfortunately, that would be him - Lance. 

Lance finally, after his mom walked past his room a second time, and her polite _it’s rude to keep the princess waiting!_ Shuffled out of bed dragging his feed lazily behind him. He ran a sloppy hand through his hair, heading into the bathroom and staring himself in the eyes through the old, tattered mirror. He had some pretty hefty bags, he’d admit, and knowing this madd his eyebrows furrow. Was he breaking out too? He leaned forward looking at the slight splotchy red on his right cheek. 

“You spend more time in that mirror than I do.” Lance’s younger sister would chide, gently jabbing him in the side so she could reach over the sink and grab her comb. She would then shuffle out of the room, her dress had plenty of patches in it - if anything came from the spirit orb, he hoped it would be wealth. 

After using the restroom, and brushing his teeth, he headed out to the forest nearby to “train” with the princess. Meeting with her was always a drag, sure she was pretty but she was also like a thousand years old, and he likes his women around his age thank you. 

“Princess.” He greeted upon seeing her, hands jammed into his pockets. 

“Ah, Lance.” She smiled, closing the book she held ever so tenderly in her fingers, and setting it down before her. “You’re earlier than usual today.” 

“Mom woke me up.” Lance felt the rush of heat to his cheeks, he could never lie to her no matter how embarrassing. 

“Well, we should get started with your training nonetheless.” 

  
  


Lance always hated, hated this part of his day. 

  
  


—- 

  
  


Keith opened his eyes slowly, stretching his arms above his head. God his back hurt, did he fall asleep in this damn tree? He sure did. Keith let out a yawn, as he took in his surroundings. The sky was purple today, Zarkon was going to want to see him. 

Calling General Zarkon “dad” was not a luxury Kieth had ever been given, nor that witch “mom.” He simply referred to them as head generals, and treated them like any other military of high ranking - ever since he was young. His dad was human, and his mom was Galra, but Keith didn’t look particularly “galra.” Sure he had the pointed ears and the overly purple eyes, and the slightly sharp teeth, and the slight stubby horns on his head, but he matched no one else on this ruinous planet. Lotor was his mentor, and the closest thing he had to a friend. But they didn’t really believe in “friends.” 

“You’re late.” Zarkon’s voice boomed as Keith gingerly walked in, he bowed his head out of formality. 

“I overslept, my apologies.” 

“Just don’t make a habit of it.” Zarkon groaned, leaning back. “How is your training, boy?”

“It’s fine, sir.” 

“Learn anything new?” 

“I can now use fire magic a considerable amount.” 

“Good, good.” 

And the conversation droned on, Zarkon peeling and prying and picking at anything that Keith was failing to cover up. But Keith was used to this, you don’t grow up in the Galra empire and don't know how to psychologically protect yourself from the advances of your prying peers - all looking for leverage, some way to get above you. 

Keith knew what he was though, and why everyone would murmur as he passed, whispering rumors and ridiculous tales - all in attempts to slander his name and reputation, which for the record, could not sink any lower than it already was. 

“It’s the demon orb.” 

“Ew, I heard that the Alteans’ didn’t want it.” 

“It probably cursed us.” 

“I hate demons.” 

“Don’t we kill demons?” 

“Why are we harboring it.” 

“It’s okay the spirit orb will defeat it soon.” 

Keith had learned to simply shrug it off. The red symbol on his forehead resembling that of a half orb did him no favors. It was impossible to hide it, he could try to hide it with a scarf, but the half orb would simply burn through it. He had no idea why, but it is what it is he guesses. 

On top of that, he was forced to have the void ring around his neck, which denied him access to his “demon” self. It limited his power, and forced him to learn how to physically train first and foremost. Keith was tired of the basics though, and he was even more tired of being locked up in a room he was not permitted to leave all due to the fact he was seen as a threat. 

He also knew that his ultimate task would be to defeat the spirit orb at the command of his father, and with that, fuse with said orb and help siege the Altean empire. Only after that, would he be seen as a true Galran - and that’s all he wanted. 

—-

It happened so quick, Lance had no idea how to react. The Galra empire had finally made it to Earth, and Allura was in danger - it stranded both the Altean princess and the spirit orb on the green friend. 

“What do we do, Allura?” Lance asked, his arms crossed as he stared at the fleet ascending upon them in the sky. The United Nations attempted to stop the assault, but each flighter sent up was soon seen spinning down in a cloud of black smoke. 

“Lance, you’re going to lose your family.” Said Allura, softly with her lips pursed, eyes closed. She never wanted to have this conversation with him. “You’re going to lose me, you’re going to lose everything and everyone you’ve ever known. And unfortunately it’s too late to hide who and what you are.” 

She was right, the blue half triangles under his eyes were bright, oh and how they glew in the dark. Not only that, but his forehead had a half blue orb that seemingly sparkled and called for attention. His hair had even started to turn snow colored, his arms obtaining more and more blue tattoos the more time ascended forward. 

“Inheriting the spirit orb has greatly genetically modified you, you’ve become Altean - soon you will become fully Altean - and with no Altean empire to return you… you will become the last one.” Allura said, she turned to him, her eyes searching in him for something, some sense of loyalty and bravery. “I’m asking you to not die, I’m asking you to embrace a life of solitude.” 

Lance knew exactly what she met. His family? They’d all be murdered, the princess? She could try to hide but eventually they’d find and murder her too. And Lance? He may be a spirit orb and a holder of a mass amount of magical power, but he is not equipped to fight an entire empire. That and the demon orb could be waiting for him in that fleet. If that’s the case, Lance wouldn’t stand even the slightest chance. His sense of duty would be to survive now, and fight later. 

“Lance, don’t let our sacrifices be in vain.” She said that ever so gently, placing a soft hand on his shoulder as his family slowly but surely shuffled behind him, each placing their hands on him. 

Lance did not reply. 

  
  


—-

  
  


Hunk felt the car stutter to a skittering hult, as smoke billowed out from the engine. 

“Stupid piece of junk!” Hunk groaned, tossing his head back in disbelief at his situation. Pidge sighed, tossing their hands up and running their fingers frustratedly through their hair. 

“This sucks. What do we do now?” Pidge asked, turning to Hunk who had an incredible look of disbelief painted on his face. 

“We cry and crawl in a hole and starve to death.” 

“Okay we are totally not doing that.” Pidge would proceed to clammer out of the passenger side, waltzing over to open the lid, which would send billowing clouds of black at them, resulting in them to cough roughly, and for the dirt and grime to stick to their fingers like glue. Great. 

“It’s completely fried.” Pidge groaned, staring at all the intricate little cogs and knobs and piped. “I don’t have all the pieces to fix this, let alone the tools - and neither of us have any money… and we’re human.” 

Hunk sighed. That they were, human _._ Why couldn’t he have been born Galra? At least then, when the invasion happened 500 years ago, he would’ve had good lineage set up thanks to his ancestors. But alas, that was not his or Pidge’s lucky situation. The both of them were pure human born, full of too much ambition and currently stranded somewhere in a heated desert in Texas. The Galra let them keep their names for their countries and homes, even allowed them to survive, as long as they pledged alliance - the government offered them all they knew in regards to science but they didn’t have a whole lot considering how far the human race was behind apparently. 

“Do you think the spirit orb is real?” Pidge asked, mouth half full of a random jelly filled donut that they had - Hunk had one in his hand, and had wound up putting the whole thing in his mouth, loudly and sloppily chewing, white powder lining his mouth, hands, and shirt. 

“Maybe.” He replied, mouth still sticky from the pastry. 

“Maybe?” Pidge hummed, pushing the rest of their treat into their face, chewing as quickly as they could as they were eager to ask more. 

“Well but like what if it is?” 

“Well then the Galra would have the demon orb right?” Hunk answered, casting Pidge a good side eye. “And we’d be fucked because I’m pretty sure the Galra have everything but like one or two planets in their control. So you can hope the orb is on one of those, but if not? It’s already long gone.” 

“I guess you're right. Things are pretty bleak huh?” Pidge would take their pointer finger, scratch at the cheek before leaning back. “I wonder what they’re like. The spirit orb. Or what they were like.” 

“I bet it was someone or something kinda cool.” 

As the sun would set behind the mountains, the two of them would find their embraces in slumber, in their overly hot and dead car. 

It sounded like an explosion, and that’s what ripped Pidge from their sleep. They fumbled around to find their glasses, desperately shoving them up the bridge of their nose when located. Hunk too had awoken to the loud rupture, both of their eyes would be glued to a blindingly blue light off in the distance. 

“Whoa…” Pidge murmured in complete awe, the sleepiness in their eyes melting away with newfound excitement.

“Should we check it out?” Hunk asked, desperation clinging in his voice - a sign when he was excited. 

“Yeah, but we should be quick - we don’t want the Galra to see us.” Pidge responded, already opening the passenger door. The door would let out a tired squeak, and would creak and groan when forced to shut again, same would happen on the driver side door. 

The two of them stumbled through the prickly terrain of the desert, trying to avoid the cacti that poked up from the ground, angry thorns warning any who got close of their danger. They would weed through bushes and keep their eyes peeled for snakes, stumbling through what should’ve been dark illuminated by a flashy blue light. 

The light itself lasted no more than maybe 4 minutes, and when they arrived at the sight, both of them were found speechless. 

They’d never seen a hole so deep before, it compared to nothing that the Galra had done to their planet. It was pitch black, so the real length of it could not be measured, but Pidge could tell it was probably a lot deeper than it looked. 

“Hello?!” Pidge called, both of their hands raised around their mouth to try and make their voice louder. 

“Pidge I’m getting freaked out.” Hunk whined, the precious excitement that had danced in his eyes completely disappeared as fear instead took them. 

“There!” Pidge exclaimed, tugging on the sleeve of Hunk’s yellow shirt to point at the blue light flickering deep within the pit. 

And maybe Pidge was an idiot for standing that close to the hole, because it happened so quick. The rock they were standing on wobbled a bit before shooting out right from under their foot, and that’s all it took for them to lose their balance, tumbling forward into the empty and bleak darkness that awaited them. They knew the moment they started sinking forward that they were probably dead. They heard Hunk yell their name, even felt his hand graze their sleeve but never quite reaching. 

Pidge was going to die before they even knew what that blue light was. Pidge didn’t know if this was bad or good, but as their eyes slipped shut and they fell forward with a yelp, the wind tussling through their hair - and then stopping. 

They opened one eye, before both, realizing that they were floating. 

In front of them, in ice, as a boy with pure white hair, blue tattoos, and half an orb glowing on his forehead. 

Was this… the spirit orb?


	2. Memories

_ I want to see you again. _

Lance peeled his eyes open after what felt like a million years, the heat from the sun pounding down on his face, causing said eyes to burn slightly when he opened them. Where was he? A slight ringing in his ears is what inevitably forced him to sit up right, both of his hands reaching to cover them as he winced. The ground was hard below him, and once he examined it he realized it was a cliff that he was up on, and as he turned to his right his eyes would widen - it was huge. A huge expansion of land with cacti poking up from the earthy, orange ground. It was amazing. 

“You’re awake.” A voice said from behind him, and as Lance turned he would be greeted by a somewhat shorter person, they had round glasses on their face, and baggy green clothes. In their hands they’d have what looked like granola bars of some kind. 

“Who… are you?” Lance asked, confusion in his voice. 

“I’m Pidge, and over there is Hunk.” Pidge would point a finger, hand still grasping the bar, a figure who could be seen leaning against a scraggly looking tree, waving what looked like a poorly made paper fan at himself. 

“Yo.” He greeted, lifting his free hand up in a lazy wave. 

Lance’s eyes widened. 

“Hey- Have you seen a woman perhaps? She has long white hair like this-” Lance pulled his hands down from the top of his head down to his waist multiple times. “Ah, she has kinda strange eyes - they’re like multi colored but most dominantly blue - oh and she has dark skin-” 

“She sounds important to you and all but, really, we found you in a.. Well a hole.” Pidge awkwardly laughed, a hand launching behind their head as they scratched at the nape of their neck. “Ah, but we have food.” Pidge offered over one of the granola bars. Lance took one, after all his stomach roared angrily like he hadn’t eaten in over a hundred years, and tearing apart the paper that covered said bar was easy, he’s pretty sure he’s never eaten anything faster in his life. 

“You can have mine too…” Pidge offered, laughing nervously as Lance didn’t even try to argue, tearing that one open before devouring it as fast as he humanly could. Pidge couldn’t take their eyes off of the strange half yin sign on Lance’s forehead, shimmering a lovely aqua blue color - especially under the sun. 

“You mentioned someone?” Hunk looked over at Lance, the two of them both seemed increasingly tired, with big purple bags under their eyes and covered with a bit of sweat. “Our car broke down, otherwise we’d take you to see whoever it is.” Lance’s face would crease with worry, his eyebrows knitting together as he clenched his teeth. Whoever he previously mentioned, he couldn’t remember their name. Now that he thinks about it, he couldn’t remember much of anything. He remembers his mom smiling at him - 

_ “Lance!” She called a pretty smile on her face, and a flash of a woman with dark skin and long, flowing white hair with an all too familiar and kind smile. She had her eyes closed then, a hand raised.  _

“Yeah… But, I can’t remember her name.” Lance sighed, scratching his head. “I can’t remember much of anything.” Lance looked down at his hands, balled into fists on his legs. 

“I’m Lance.” Lance looked up, an all too easy smile falling on his face. 

“You can’t remember?” Pidge asked, plopping down next to Lance, outstretching their legs and casting a glance to the sky. “I guess we have no choice but to help you, since we woke you up. And you kinda saved my life.” 

“I did?” Lance tilted his head, shocked once more, to which Pidge laughed. 

“I guess you don’t remember that either?” Hunk interjected, standing up. “Well if we’re going to find your friend, we should attempt to fix the car - there’s a nearby town but it’s full of the Galra.”

“Gal… What’s a Galra?” The boy had a confused look on his face, reaching up to scratch at his cheek. He noticed his hair had actually gotten quite long, and peeling a strand away from his face he was shocked to find it completely white. Wasn’t his hair brown?

Pidge and Hunk shared a silent look between one another. 

“Ah well, we’ll explain more later, but basically they’re our enemies. They’re the enemies to all humankind. But we have to do something about how you look, or else there might be bigger problems.” Pidge would reach over to grab a satchel resting near them, pulling it over they began to dig through it, eyes narrow. 

“Enemies?” Lance didn’t remember any enemies. In fact he didn’t remember a whole lot of things. He winced, god his head was ringing, he lifted a hesitant hand to his forehead. Was he dehydrated? 

Pidge set to work adjusting a blanket they had into a cloak of sorts, doing their best to sew it into something that could pass as such, it took until dusk before Pidge had said clothing ready, they fastened the hood over Lance’s head before tying it snug around Lance’s neck. 

“I don’t know what this stone is, but you were holding it when we found you.” Pidge informed, it was the centerpiece of said cloak. Lance looked down at it curiously holding it in his hands, it was purple, blue, and gold. It swirled around like the sea would, Lance had no idea what it was either, but it was pretty. 

Hunk walked over with a yellow headband in tow, pushing the hood off of Lance’s head to ensure that it wouldn’t get in the way when he tied it around the boy’s forehead. Hunk made sure to tug any strands of hair out from under. 

“There you go, a whole new person.” Hunk grinned, and Pidge smiled back, before Hunk lifted the hood to cover Lance’s hair once more. “Let’s go.” 

“Mm!” Pidge stood up, pulling their bag off the ground and slinging it onto their shoulder. 

It was certainly hot Lance noted, walking sort of sheepishly behind his two new companions. Hunk was tall and big, and Pidge was small and short, but the two of them looked to be good people and even better friends, especially to help him - a stranger. 

\---

“This cost the last of our money…” Pidge sighed, holding a bunch of strange looking tools in their hands, as well as car parts - Lance had no idea what any of that stuff was though, and he just curiously trudged behind them. The city they were in was huge, big towering buildings with flashing signs and lights - there were tall purple people too, with pointed ears, teeth, and horns - some in red garb, others in casual clothing. Lance was informed that these were the anointed Galran, and that they had taken over the Earth a good 500ish years ago. Something wasn’t adding up though, because the Earth Lance vaguely remembered was full of green and life, something this new world seemed to be completely devoid of. What was going on? 

Lance felt his eyes widen as he caught a glimpse of himself - he was so pale now. How had he not noticed sooner? That and his eyes had new flakes of purple in them, he found himself stopping to stare at himself in the window, eyes wide. Who was he? The pure white hair stands that stuck out from under his hood seemed to be a mortal reminder - a reminder of something even graver than he knew. His nails were long too, pointed. He noticed strange markings under his eyes, matching that of the stone that was pulling his cloak together, swirling with the same purples and yellows - but how?! He reached a shaky finger to drag along one, it felt just like normal skin would. Who was he?! 

“Lance, come on!” Hunk tugged on Lance’s arm, pulling him after the two. He was even more confused than when he woke up in the middle of a desert. All Lance knew was that it would be of top importance for him to find that woman he could vaguely remember, he knew that she would know what had happened to his family - to him, and to the planet. 

She would be his salvation. 

“Anyway, it’s kind of the middle of the night, so I doubt it’d be really safe to try and find our car.” Pidge grimaced, before turning to Hunk. “Guess we’re sleeping outside tonight, big guy.” With that, they sent a firm pat on Hunk’s back, who just groaned in seeming annoyance. 

“Agh! Of course it is.” Hunk would puff his cheeks out much like a child, pouting, and Lance would smile - 

“Jose, you can’t pout like that you’ll make mom upset.” Lance had the widest grin on his face, especially since he woke up.

“Jose?” Pidge and Hunk said at the same time, to which Lance found himself stopping.

“Ah, sorry, I don’t know who that is either.” Lance was immediately back in the dumps once more, stuffing his hands in his pockets from under the soft cloak that wrapped around him, following his two new friends much like a lost duck would.

The three of them would huddle in a strange alleyway, but the city was far too bright and loud for Lance to find any traces of slumber, he also had a feeling he wouldn’t need to sleep for a good while, so instead he stared at the moon off in the distance. It was pretty, pure white rays casting out, but being obscured by the golden bright lights of the city. People could be heard laughing and talking at a nearby open bar, someone was shouting about rare goods they were selling. Lance noticed something unnerving though, plenty of Humans’ had their hands restricted by golden chains, or were wearing some kind of collar. No Galran was serving anyone, only Humans manned the registers, and all of them seemed to be way too polite towards the Galra. 

“Here’s your change.” A woman with soft blonde hair smiled, handing over a strange form of currency Lance had never seen, it was like a flash drive, and it only confused him further. The Galra didn’t even answer her, simply snatched it from her hands before taking his food from the counter and walking out - nothing had doors he noticed, it was all open. Any store that was closed had a gate covering the front of it, it was so strange. Lance realized pretty quickly that humanity was enslaved by the Galra. 

Lance too, noticed that both of his new found friends’ had red bracelets on their wrists. Though the difference was theirs were glitchy looking and made weird sounds. Like they were constantly buzzing, both of their bracelets had numbers on them. Lance looked at his own wrists, expecting to see a bracelet but alas he found nothing, no band anywhere. No barcode, nothing. He felt his neck, but no collar. He gulped. 

Why was he the only one in this place without some kind of identification device? 

“You there!” A voice boomed, and it startled Lance out of his daze, it was a Galran in red garb - he knew those to be the officers and military. “What’s your identification code, why are you sleeping outside like dogs!” Lance found himself panicking, but Pidge was already on it, offering their bracelet with a shy grin, the stuff they bought had been tucked into a green satchel that Pidge had already been carrying and they had half the mind to sort of shove it out of view, tucking it behind a dumpster. 

“What’s the matter with this, it’s all broken.” The Galran groaned, turning Pidge’s wrist over and around. 

“We came here to fix it but got lost, and since it’s broken we can’t really rent a hotel. All of ours are broken. We got in a car accident with our house leader.” Hunk piped up, shimmying himself off the ground. “He ordered us to come here without him since he couldn’t be bothered.” 

“What’s with your friend back there.” The Galra pointed, and Pidge let out a resound- “shoot.” under their breath. 

“Lance,” Hunk hurriedly grabbed the bag from behind the dumpster, “Run! You’re our only hope!” 

The bag hit Lance in the face, and he clumsily grabbed onto it before messily moving to his feet, sprinting further down the alley - it forked into two directions, and he decided to launch to his left, rapidly allowing his feet to carry him as fast as he could. 

“Wait!” The Galra shouted, but he heard Pidge over the said Galra - 

JUST KEEP RUNNING!

Tears burned at the corners of Lance’s eyes, and he was unsure why, but he felt them gush down his face as he sprinted. What did Hunk mean by he was their only hope? He turned out onto the main road, skidding slightly as he nearly fell but kept running, gasping desperately as his lungs started to burn. He kept running until - Thump! 

His rear stung as that’s what he landed on, in front of him was a Galra soldier nonetheless, piercing purple eyes and long white hair. He had light purple skin, a grin was on his face. He raised a brow. 

“What do we have here?” The man inquired, reaching down to cup Lance’s chin and tilt it upright. Lance’s hood had been knocked off when he ran into the other, revealing his snow like hair. The man drug a finger over one of the markings on his cheeks. “How interesting.” 

Lance wasted no time slapping the other’s hand from his face, tugging up his hood and scooting backwards until he quickly returned to his feet, turning around to run but only running into more Galra soldiers who had cornered him, much like a dog at the pound. Lance could feel his hands shaking but he had no idea why - was he going to let everyone down again? The ringing in his ears got louder and louder, almost deafening, and it was like he had gone blind, sent into a dark and lonely abyss, like he was sinking in an ocean however - like he was suffocating, and couldn't push air into his lungs.

“Oh?” The man hummed, watching as the boy before him started to glow with a piercing blue light once more. 

Lance’s hood would flap off from his head, the cloak blowing wildly behind him as his skin would start to seemingly glow blue, eyes being taken over with an all too aqua colored light. Lance would allow an all to ear shattering scream rip from his throat as the ground seemingly quaked from below him, multiple spears surrounding him each one pointing at the Galra around him - 

_ “Control.” ____ Reminded him, her soft smile falling on her face, as she reached a careful hand to his cheek, as if to ground him. “You have to remain in control, if you let it slip you might end up hurting someone you care about.” ____ Brushed a strand of her white hair behind one of her ears, running a finger over his forehead. “You embody the ________ now, you can’t do anything that would jeopardize its good intentions and will, otherwise you’d be no better than the ____.”  _

_ Pure white, was that memory.  _

The spears like glass would shatter, and fall like snow before dissipating as Lance lowered himself to the ground slowly, when he opened his eyes once more, his vision had returned to normal, and he seized the opportunity to shove past the Galra, running straight ahead of him straight towards where his two friends were last seen, bag still tucked carefully in his arms. 

“After him!” One of the guards shouted, extending an angry finger to which the man with the long hair interjecting, placing his hand on the Galra’s shoulder. 

“Let him. We’ll follow him carefully.” 

“But Lotor-” 

“Are you interjecting with your house commanders command?” Lotor glared, something gleaming in his eye as he grinned. “I’m sure you all know exactly what that power was, it’s something we failed to catch and erase before. Let’s take it carefully this time. Get Keith, I have to talk to him about his duties.” 

“Yes, Lord!” The five Galra soldiers around him chanted, before they ran off further into the city towards a tower unlike the rest. It had a sharp point that seemed to reach into the clouds, it was entirely red, and every light was constantly on in it. 

Lance panted, despite heading towards where he last saw his friends, he didn’t run into them, and in fact made it out of the city without much resistance from anyone. He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on the bag in his arms - why couldn’t he remember anything?! He looked up as something wet patted against his cheek, extending a careful and shy arm out, palm turned upward. White flakes of snow were ascending from the sky. 

\---

Keith looked out his window from his ever so highly placed tower, watching as droplets of white drifted from the sky, snow? What a weird thing, only Earth seemed to have such bizarre weather, ever so changing in things the humans’ called “seasons.” With said seasons came things like rain and snow, blistering heat and the changing of leaves. So many interesting and unique things that only this planet had. 

It was beautiful. 

Keith had a twisting feeling in his gut, like something major was about to happen. 


	3. Wandering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is lost can always be found... most of the time

Crunch. 

The gravel beneath Lance’s shoes noisily crunched beneath his feet, and he found himself stumbling from side to side, his stomach grumbling louder, his mouth dry and sticky with the need for liquid. Was he going to die of dehydration and starvation before he even figured out what happened to him? He had gotten himself lost, he had no idea where to go and on the gravel path he was on, illuminated by the all too bright and hot sun, Lance knew without a doubt he was reduced to a wandering spirit. Luckily the cloak Pidge made for him managed to hide most of his skin from said sun - something that used to not be a problem, but he realized he sunburned easily. Especially since the bridge and tip of his nose as well as his cheeks had definitely started transforming into an abundant vermillion red color - the signs of a sunburn for sure. He wondered how on earth he’d even gotten so pale, last he checked he was definitely a lot tanner - thanks to his Mexican heritage. Maybe it was because of the alleged “hole” they found him in. Maybe he’d been frozen or something. Lance laughed softly to himself, no way that’s impossible. 

Thump. 

The bag finally toppled out of Lance’s arms, and Lance soon followed, collapsing to his hands and knees as sweat dripped from his face onto the dusty ground below. A gust of hot wind pressed against his right side, causing his cloak to loudly flap behind him, before slowly falling back down into its correct position, resuming coverage of his right arm. Lance’s hair softly blew in what little breeze remained. The sand billowing out and about around him, specks of dirt landing in his mouth which he discovered by the crunching of something in between his teeth, and something scratchy remaining on his tongue, which he spit out with a “PEH” multiple times. He took the back of his hand and wiped the remaining slobber from his chapped lips. 

Was he going to die?

Lance finally pulled himself to his feet, stumbling as he grabbed the bag he was carrying back into his arms. He could feel the burning in his eyes of tears but he knew he had no water to give, so he pursed his lips and trudged forward for what felt like an eternity all too long beneath the desert sun. 

Finally, when the sun had been tucking itself behind the mountains, Lance had found himself outside a cafe with what probably used to be a gas station that was falling apart in wear and tear in front of him. Rusted and old, covered in a slick layer of dust and sand. 

The cafe before him had an old rusted sign clinging to the top of the building, half of it hanging down attached to a set of colorful wires. Some of the said letters were missing, so on top the cafe spelled out “GRE….” “UB.” Lance pushed his eyebrows together, he had zero idea what they were trying to spell. 

Lance ignored it, and pushed inside the cafe, the chime of a bell above him with a resound “ding!” 

Fwap fwap fwap, an old rust covered fan squeaked out, slowly moving back and forth from behind the diner. There was an old radio with a not so good connection talking about local news, the weather, and occasionally something about sports. It was fuzzy and hard to understand everything they were saying. There was a woman with blonde hair sloppily pulled up into a messy bun, golden strands falling in her face as she loudly and sloppily chewed gum, an apron blue in color wrapped around a black working uniform. 

“We’re about to close darlin.” The woman spoke, whacking a pen audibly against the counter. There was a strange boy in the back who looked Galran but not quite. He had stark black hair and wine red eyes, he looked tired, but not too tired, and could be found politely cutting a piece of steak and pushing into his mouth. He had on a headband and on the front of it was printed a symbol that Lance couldn’t recognize, like it was a foreign language. 

Lance offered a toothy grin, some of his teeth browned from the dirt, before promptly toppling over like a bag of potatoes. He hit the ground with a loud thud. He had let out an  _ oof  _ when he collapsed, his spontaneous falling granted him the attention of the stranger, and the waitress, who both gave him worried glances. Unfortunately, Lance was not spared humiliation, for he did not pass out - but he lacked all the energy to stand. His legs burned, sore from walking for what felt like years, skin dry from lack of water, mouth crisper than a cracker.

“Whoa boy are you okay?!” The woman asked, the pen clattering out of her hands as she wrapped around the counter untying her apron while she moved, tossing it over the counter as she shifted to crouch down beside him, placing the back of her hand against his cheek. “You’re sparkin’ a fever that’s for sure.” 

Lance sort of half grinned at her once more. 

“The only fever being started is by you.” 

She would roll her eyes at this remark. 

“I’m old enough to be your mother now quit your yappin’, you there, edgy alien boy, come help me.” She called out, and the only other person pointed a finger at himself to which she nearly walked over and strangled the man. 

“Yes you, who else is a weird alien boy?!” 

The mysterious stranger pulled himself up from his spot at a booth, shuffling over lazily to the woman and Lance, to which he sort of dug the heel of his foot into Lance’s side. 

“You know we took over your little planet right?” The galra spoke, raising a brow. “Why should I help save some insignificant, poor, human’s life?” Lance would wince feeling the heel of what felt like a metal boot stab into his side, actually it felt more like baseball cleats than anything. 

“Well because he would do the same for you, I’m sure.” She would shove his foot off of Lance’s side in that moment, rolling him onto his back. 

“Go fetch some water, boy.” She demanded, and she gave such a motherly look that the poor galra found himself unable to disagree. 

The Galra stranger would make a noise under his breath, sauntering into the kitchen to try and locate some water, to which he finds a clear pitcher with ice cubes floating in liquid, which he bringers over, not happily, he practically shoves it at her, and the woman grabs the pitcher, and places the dipped end of it into Lance’s mouth and slowly pours it into his mouth until the entire pitcher is drained, save for the ice cubes that remain at the bottom. 

Lance desperately swallowed it as fast as he could, save for a few coughs that echoed from his rasp and scratchy throat. 

“What’s your name?” She asks, not Lance but the boy behind her. 

“Is that really necessary?” He groans, his face scrunching up in agony - to which the woman rolls her eyes. 

“I’ll give you your meal on the house, now your name son.” She lightly pats Lance’s cheek to keep him awake. 

“Keith.” Keith replies, jamming his hands in his pockets, he hates doing charity work, plus he’s trying to find someone, not deal with some poor boy who’s lost. 

“Okay Keith, go into the kitchen and in the metal box, yes it’s an oven so grab some mitts so you don’t burn your hands, pull out of the sandwiches. Further back into the kitchen there’s more pitchers already pre filled with water, grab one and place a sandwich and the pitcher at any booth I don’t care.” She takes one of the ice cubes and pushes it into Lance’s mouth, which he, much like a child, sucks on it. This whole situation was a little awkward, but hey free food is free food. 

Keith shuffles his way on back behind the counter, doing as he was instructed. Upon opening the oven a rush of heat smacks him in the face to which he finds himself making a face of annoyance. He doesn’t put on an oven mitt, just reaches in and grabs a tray out, and loudly slamming it onto the counter before shuffling his way back to where the pitchers were supposed to be kept. He yanks one with a grumpy huff and brings it up before grabbing one of the wrapped tuna sandwiches and places it at a random booth and slamming the water pitcher down. 

“There.” He bites back, before pushing open the door with a ring and taking his leave. Grumbling while storming off. He gets into a strange vehicle, one purple in color, it starts loudly - hovering a good inch or two off the ground, it’s shaped like a motorcycle, and before long Keith is whirring off, headed on his way.

The kind woman helps Lance to the said booth, before waltzing over to the door and turning the lock with a click. She turns off any visible lights save for the kitchen light, and she moves over to the table which Keith was previously seated, grabbing his left overs and tossing them. 

“You just take your time.” She tells Lance, before disappearing into the back. 

Lance does not take his time. Instead he tears apart that tuna sandwich like it was the first meal he’s ever had, and to be fair it definitely felt that way. Before chugging down as much of the pitcher water he could, it would be left at half full by the time she walked on back. 

“I have a room down stairs if you wanna stay the night.” She tells him, “you’ll have to wash dishes though - earn your keep.” 

Lance had zero qualms with that, and simply agreed before following her down. 

“I’m Lance.” Lance says, while following her down the squeaky, old wooden steps. She smiles. 

“My name is Ruth, pleased to make your acquaintance.” She then takes him to a small, average sized room tucked beneath the kitchen, inside of it is just an old bed, one of the legs missing, causing it to dip. It’s wooden, old looking but made with a pastel pink blanket and pillow, an old mirror and dresser tucked into the other two corners of the room. The mirror has a few cracks in it, and the dresser was missing one of the handles to pull it out. Lance thanks her, and after she leaves he quickly collapses into the bed and disappears into a dreamless sleep. 

He was exhausted. 

—-

Lance worked as a part time dishwasher for his uncle’s restaurant, it was an upscale place tucked next to multiple malls and gyms, they sold Mexican cuisine, anywhere from the popular burritos to pork, to rice - anything and they had it. They had the best tacos in the city for sure, and had won plenty of awards for it. Lance had plans to go to flight school, but he had to work for the money so for a full year prior he was doomed to working as a busboy / dishwasher, not that he minded. 

So when it came to rinsing off the multiple dishes and pans, it was like second nature and he did it well and fast. Scrubbing them clean of grease and grime by dipping them inside saline they called it - sanitary water, before using the high pressure nozzle to rinse them down, stacking them in a strange box which would lower and spray them with soap and water, before lifting to reveal sparkling clean dishes, in which Lance would grab them freshly hot, and place them in their allotted positions, letting them drip dry from a hanging slot in the wall. 

Ruth had definitely been impressed by his overall knowledge, and efficiency, she wound up even paying him. She paid him the same way the strange woman had taken currency he had saw back in the city, with a USB chip, it had green glowing numbers on it - 150.00 USD it read. USD? 

“We’re in the United states then.” Lance confirmed, turning the chip over and around his fingers. 

“Well yes, where else did you think we were? We’re in Texas, but in the middle of nowhere Texas. The place where it’s just desert for miles and strange farmhouses. I live and work here. It was my great great GREAT GREAT grandmas, way back before the invasion.” She informed him, wiping down the counter. 

“Invasion?” Lance asked, helping her by wiping down one of the various booths. 

“What? Do you live under a darn rock, son? The invasion. Where the Galra ascended from the sky supposed five hundred and somethin’ years ago lookin’ for some spirit thing or whatever.” She looked flabbergasted by Lance’s confusion. 

“Uh you could say that.” Lance awkwardly responds, fingers lingering in the wet rag that burns into his fingers from the chemicals. It’s saline too, he’s sure. 

“I’m actually in a bit of trouble with the Galra.” He tells her, the sun highlighting his face and for the first time Ruth gets a good look at him. She notices the half triangles beneath his eyes blue like the ocean swirling with something unknown, matching the stone locking his cloak together. It sparkled in the sunlight like the beautiful ocean. And it takes Ruth back to seeing the ocean for the first time with her dad, an old gruff man with a shaggy white beard and tired eyes and he tells her - he tells her then on the pier, 

_ “Don’t take nothing from anybody.”  _

  
  


“Well what can I do for you?” She insists, hands on her hips. The faint scent of coffee wafting through the air as it could be heard brewing, the machine sputtering lazily as it did it’s best to spew the hot liquid into a coffee pot below. There was too white mugs set side by side next to said coffee mug, Lance actually enjoyed the way she made it, it tasted like home did - when his mom and aunt would brew a pot and sit and talk about their goals and life aspirations. Lance would sometimes steal a cup, softly sipping at it under the shade of the house, watching as his siblings played with their toys in the backyard, making sure nothing happened to them - and when he finished his brew, he’d get up and join them. Chasing them around as a ferocious dragon with huge sharp teeth, or as a super evil king bent on placing them in imprisonment. 

“I had two friends captured by the Galra in that city nearby, the one with the tall red tower,” Lance starts, staring down at his balled up fists. “They told me to run, that I was their last hope - but I feel like they’re important, I need them.” 

“Hmm.” The woman hummed, dislodging the coffee pot from the coffee machine. She poured the two mugs about half full, before lazily setting the pot back on the marble top counter, heading into the kitchen to open the fridge and bring in some creamer. She poured the rest of the mugs full, before returning the creamer to its rightful place on the bottom shelf of the fridge, before returning and taking a metal spoon and spinning it around in each cup. It clinked against the sides of the mugs, tink tink tink. She picked up one of them and offered it to Lance, who graciously accepted it, lifting it to his no longer chapped lips to softly blow on the liquid before taking a cautious sip, and Ruth had done the same. 

“Well any trouble with the Galra is bad news.” Ruth concludes, taking another sip. Before sighing. “But I think they were right, you do seem important, I think the world could definitely use you kid. Tell you what, I can't help your imprisoned friends, but I can take you up to the northern side of the US. I have a couple friends there that help just about anybody, as long as you can pay. You’ve been working here ‘bout a month and a half so I’ll give you that pay and I’ll take you there for free, you can pay them and have them bring back your friends. Although warning, they them Galran folk, they aggressive.” 

Lance swallowed. 

Anytime Galra anything was involved, it did not end well for Lance. 

But no the less he would agree. 

  
  


—-

Fields of green blowing within the tides of wind, fields of wheat sticking up golden and waving back and forth - tall trees billowing far far into the sky, smelling of fresh pine and moss - smelling of life. Lance has never seen so much green in his life, especially from the passenger seat of an old pick up truck, the engine groaning with a choppy sputter as it clicked to stay alive. The trees were, admittedly, taller than anything he’s ever seen - they reached into the clouds, into the heavens, and the sky was painted in a beautiful display of golds and yellows. 

But it was beautiful. A few storm clouds to the East gathered, varying shades of grey and their thunderous cry could be heard, meaning wherever they were hovering over was surely being rained upon.

“This place is gorgeous.” Lance concludes, eyes wide with childlike wonder as he scans what appears to be overly forestry terrain. 

“It sure is, we’re in Darrington, Washington. The only place the Galra left alone - though that ain’t stop them from settling, and sure as hell don’t stop them from forcing their laws. The people out here though don’t rely on them the same, they can farm, they have sheep and goat, it’s where I buy my loads for my diner.” Ruth informs, tapping the side of her wheel to the tune of a very old and sketchy sounding song, constantly interrupted with fits of static and white noise, buzzing broken. 

Lance wonders what the world had been before their invasion. Had the music played smoothly? Had the signs been well kept? Instead of the rusted appearance billboards had taken, overgrown with nature and wildlife, birds creating their nests in the rusted cracks. 

Lance wonders if maybe there were more houses instead of the overly tall, red tinted buildings that reached into space - seemingly glowing in an ominous way that riddled what was left of humanity in anxiety. 

What a sad state the Earth was in. 

Ruth’s tires screech and jolt Lance from his daydream, they’d arrive he presumes. It was a rusted old building, a tire swing in the front yard and the grass way too overgrown, in fact nature had started invading the sidewalk and even the road below it. On the porch was a Galra, but he was snoring loudly, rocking back and forth in an all too old rocking chair which screeched with every to and fro of the chair. Lance opened his side of the door with a metallic clank, clambering out, the wind was cool and wet when it slapped him in the face. They’d been in the damn car for well over four days, and it felt good to stretch his lanky limbs since the last pit stop. Ruth followed him in his act, opening her door which cried out with an eee, before slamming it shut. The engine could be heard ticking as it cooled off, finally getting a good chance to rest - as Ruth had already planned to be here for a good couple days. She headed around back, in the bed of the Truck, reaching and pulling out bags, she threw one at Lance, it was the one he’d been carrying stock full of car parts, and it hit him right in the head, to which he groaned. The second one had clothes from her late husband, which she too threw at him, but this time he caught it. She had her own bag, slung over her shoulder as she walked on over and past the sleeping Galra, swinging open the old screen door and letting it loudly thump shut behind her. Lance picked up his two now, dirt covered bags and followed her, shutting the door quietly behind him as not to disturb the sleeping alien. 

Inside the house the floors were wooden and creaky, but the kitchen was nice, and it smelled of ginger tea, a sweeter scent than normal wafting as what appeared to be messily construed pies sitting on the counters with an x shape cut on the three of them. They were slightly more golden than a good pie should be, and some of the filling had oozed out, and become an all too black color - burnt. Lance realized that these were all practice attempts, as each pie looked better than the last. 

“Ruth!” A familiar voice echoed, and sure enough, Lance felt his eyes widen. It was the same white haired Galran back in the city. He was dressed normally though, no armor. He was simply wearing a plaid, long sleeve shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. He had on an apron that said “kiss the cook” with what appeared to be a white silhouette of a family on it. 

Lance knew his hair was a different color now, brown, and his markings were covered by bandaids, and the headband - still bright yellow, but slightly dirtied with sweat and grime had become more of a faded color. Ruth had insisted he dye his hair and wear those, and since she was kind enough to help him out so much, he found himself obliging with near every demand she had for him. 

“This is my nephew,” Ruth started in reference to Lance, “His name is Lark.” 

Lance blinked. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” He piped up, extending an all too shaky hand. Thank god he was already sweaty, otherwise he would’ve been visibly worse off than when they were in the car. The white haired man took Lance’s, and gave it a firm shake. 

“Lotor.” He concluded, a toothy grin on his lips. “Are you two hungry?” He asked, fingers slipping away from the palm of Lance’s and Lance didn’t miss that way Lotor gave him  _ that  _ look, curiosity in the Galran’s face. 

“Sure are.” Ruth intervened before Lance could politely say no, and soon enough the two of them were seated at an old wood table, one that had a missing part of the leg, so it wobbled whenever pressure was applied. A piece of slightly burnt cherry pie and a tall glass of milk was in front of Lance, and he guessed it wouldn’t hurt to eat. 

So soon enough his fork was digging into the gooey mess, it was warm but not too hot, and he began eating it. He consumed it, enjoyed how it stickily stuck to his back teeth, how the flavor danced across his tongue as he chewed, how Ruth had a content look on her face as she sipped at some of the tea. 

“Your pie is getting better, Lotor.” Ruth complimented, to which Lotor chuckled. He was seated to their right, also partaking of the pie. 

“Why thank you, I’ve been doing my best since the last time you were here. Speaking of that, what can I do for you, Ruth?” Lotor has his fork turned sideways, using it as a makeshift knife as he cuts the tip of his pie off, before stabbing it with said utensil, and bringing it to his lips to bite off the piece of pie slowly. Politely chewing, he had manners for the state in which he was living. 

“I’m trying to find Lark’s friends here, two of them to be exact.” Ruth looked at Lance expectantly, and Lance found himself clearing his throat. 

“Their names are Pidge and Hunk. I don’t know a lot about them, but their devices,” Lance pointed at his wrist. “Are broken.” 

“You don’t have one.” Lotor commented, and Lance quickly took his arm away before the alien could spectate. “Just like Ruth.” He finishes after pausing to finish chewing. 

“Hunk is a bigger guy, and Pidge is kinda small.” Lance continued, nervously bringing the glass of milk to his lips to take a big swig, gulping loudly. 

“They’re close, really close, and they’re in Texas.” 

“Where in Texas?” Lotor perked up, casting another strange look at Lance. 

“District 6, the party city.” Ruth intervened, before creasing her eyebrows. “They’ll probably be trafficked by now.” 

“That’s such a shame, it makes them harder to catch, but you know - it’s not an issue for me Ruth, I’ll find them. For a price.” Lotor ran a hand through his white locks, messing it up more in his menstrations. 

“You didn’t come empty handed did you?” Lotor hummed, looking over at Lance up and down. 

“N- no.” Lance stammered, unzipping one of the bags he had plopped down next to him, handing over a runt sack in golden color. It was small though, and as Lotor took it and dug inside, he’d find a blinking pay chip, the total sum of 15,000 USD. 

“Hmm, for two people? I’ll give you a friends discount, consider yourself lucky you have your aunt.” Lotor smiled, pocketing the chip and throwing the sack back at Lance. He caught it clumsily in his hands, before tucking it back in his bag. “After lunch, I’ll get started.” 

And so they resumed eating, light chatter between Lotor and Ruth ensued, the two of them talking about various things around the world and the advancement of Galran technology and what not. Soon enough the meal was finished, and Lance found himself scrubbing the dishes clean in the sink - upon Ruth’s instructions as the two of them disappeared up a set of loud creaky stairs. There was an old grandfather clock in the living room, ticking loudly - before chiming obnoxiously to tell the hour. 

Lance was just amidst drying a round plate when the two of them returned, and Lotor walked over to Lance first, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. 

“Well we found your friends, they’ve been freshly sold to the Galran royal family as accomplices to someone top secret. But you paid, I accepted it, if I knew I would’ve charged you more. They’ll probably be imprisoned, interrogated, and then made to be cleaning slaves.” Lotor concluded, “if they haven’t been already.” 

“So…?” Lance asked, hesitantly staring at the round plate in his hands. 

Lotor narrowed his eyes, reaching an aggressive hand to the boy’s hair, tugging the strands up to reveal all too white roots - and Lance stumbled backward, plate slipping sloppily from his fingers before shattering, sending glass shards too and from around the floor. 

“You’re the kid from that city aren’t you?” Lotor further pressed, he took his fingers after having cornered Lance against the counter top, prying the bandaid edge up before roughly ripping it off of the boy’s cheek, revealing an all to familiar aquatic glow - a half triangle swirling below his eye with mystery. “You are. I could sell you for quite a bit.” 

Lance could feel his heart hammering loudly into his ribs, thumping in a way that made him try to reach for a weapon to get the alien off of him, panic swirling in and around him and- 

“But you’re a friend of Ruth’s now, and I’m not on duty.” Lotor concluded, tossing the bandaid in the trash. “You need a better disguise.” Lotor confesses, “tell me your real name.” 

“Lance.” Lance said it without much thought, much to Ruth’s surprise. 

“Well then Lance, why don’t you help me with dinner and we can talk about a plan to help your comrades.” Lotor walked over to a closet door in the kitchen, opening it to reveal lots of dry food. “What pasta should we have? We’re going to have burgers - on second thought maybe we should do steak and broccoli since we have such an esteemed guest, being the  _ spirit orb  _ and all, you must have such refined tastes.” 

_ Spirit… orb?  _

  
  


Memories came flooding in then. Memories of meadows and heat, silky white hair and familiar half triangles with pearly purple eyes and dark skin, laughter as soft as an angel - 

“Do you know a woman? She has white hair slightly curly, she’s darker skinned - she has triangles like mine but hers are just pink - she’s pretty -“ Lance stammered, and Lotor blinked. 

“I haven't a clue who you’re asking about kid, besides you only paid me to help locate those two other people.” Lotor shrugged Lance’s questions off, before heading to the loud buzzing fridge, opening it with a pop and pulling out a bag of fresh broccoli. “Broccoli and steak it is.” He grinned, walking past Lance to tussle his hair. 

Lance felt his gaze fall to the floor. Had he made a mistake asking for Pidge and Hunk instead? He didn’t know, but he did know that Pidge and Hunk said they’d help him find whoever it was he was looking for - way before they even knew anything about him - they’d given him food, clothes, they’d help hide his identity - 

They’d been nothing but nice, and Lance knew he had to find them and rescue them. 

—-

Pure white swept the floor as Pidge moved to the rhythm, their hips swaying from side to side as they did the dance - before toppling over like a flightless bird, white dress flowing elegantly over the ground as they scraped their knee. 

“I can’t do this.” Pidge groaned, tossing their hands up to which a polite woman laughed. 

Her chains clinked around her ankles as she approached Pidge. Her hair was as white as snow done up in a messy bun, she had white snowflake like eyelashes that brushed against darker skin, and as she crouched by Pidge, she politely pushed a couple strands of their hair from their face. 

“I know you can do this.” Her name was Allura, and she spoke like the ocean, and smelled like winter, the first droplets of morning dew in the morning. She had earrings bright as the sun, and she reminded Pidge of Lance - with such blues and golds.

She had scars under her eyes however, multiple of them like someone had taken a scalpel and dug out something underneath the skin. Her hair had been cut off many times, she was even bald, but now they’d allow her to retain some length, even enough to tie up. She was starved, beaten and kicked, bones broken and spirit crushed - kept alive simply by genetics. Time on Earth was slower for her, 500 Earth days was only a week on Altea - technically. But because of that, she hadn’t aged much, and had to endure so much suffering she wasn’t accustomed to - 500 earth days felt like 500 miniature eternities stuffed into one. 

Pidge knew that she was from a different planet, they also knew that she had endured quite the suffering as the other jailmates talked about it quite frequently. 

That and they were all be trained on an Galran dance, to welcome the awakening of the spirit orb. The spirit orb that Pidge had woke up, and ended up ditching out there. Pidge had worries in their stomach, like what if Lance starved to death or got mugged - or worse, if a Galra got its hand in him - Pidge huffed. 

If Allura could dance like that, swirling in brilliant circles that sent her long silk made dress out in a glorious display of whites and reds, Pidge could do it too. 

“Okay, thank you Allura.” Pidge smiled, allowing themself to be pulled up from the ground and taught once more. 

Sweat laced their skin as they walked out of the training room, the door whizzing shut behind them with a resound click. Pidge was dressed back in brown clothes, prisoners cloth. Pidge had a collar around their neck that would beep and buzz, occasionally, their ankles and wrists in shackles that clanked with every uncomfortable step. They’d been dancing like that for three weeks, one week after Pidge had arrived there. A whole month. 

It felt like years. 

Pidge got to share a cell with Hunk though, and Allura, and another strange man with stark orange hair and a funny attitude. He too had scars under his eyes. His hands were constantly broken and kept in slings, he apparently had his eyes removed, therefore keeping him blind - keeping him from obtaining more knowledge. His face was wrapped in a soft white bandage around where his eyes should’ve been, and Allura often changed it with great care, gentle hands. 

Pidge would come to know his name as Coran. He had pointed ear like an elf, and was full of funny stories form a planet that seemed too far away, and Pidge wonders what life would’ve been like, operating supposed GIANT robots fighting to save the universe from unseen threats, or even seen threats like the Galra - to go around and rescuing aliens from their clutches - stories of grand exploration. 

Pidge listened eagerly to these stories, and Hunk did as well. Hunk hadn’t been injured, but considered the “shlop” for food they were given, Hunk had lost quite a bit of weight and was teetering on the thin side - it hurt Pidge to see their friend likes this, it hurt Pidge every time they took Coran from their cell, Coran begging and pleading, unable to cry real tears but still desperate - then coming back a few days later in bloodied bandages. 

It made Pidge’s stomach hurt. 

—-

“I know of someone,” Allura started one day, her eyes closed as she leaned back, massaging Hunk’s ankle which had just recently been bruised. “He’s brave and strong, a bit childish sure, but he has such a big and welcoming heart - he might be gone but…” she trailed off, her eyes opening, they were full of wonder but they were definitely somewhere else than here. 

“But I have a feeling he’ll come to save us.” 

“Is he your friend?” Hunk asked, a bit of stale bread in his mouth, chewing noisily as he leaned against the cold concrete wall. 

“Yes I think so.” Allura concluded, lifting a finger to trail over the scars beneath her eyes. “He would have markings like these, he’d have darker skin - lighter than mine, but by no means pale. He’d have soft brown hair, and aqua eyes - he’d tell stories of wanting to be the best and working so hard to help his family.” Allura smiled, looking at the leg on her lap. “It was a family I never could’ve helped.” 

“But you tried right?” Hunk asked, wincing slightly as Allura rubbed at a tender spot on his purpled leg. 

“No, they ran out of time. You humans are so fragile, victims to the merciless ticking of the clock, you age so fast and quickly, disappearing - fading into dust and age.” Allura hummed. “I’m afraid that my friend too, might be lost to time.” 

“I thought you said he’d have markings like you?” Pidge asked, to which Allura grinned. 

“Yes, but not always.” She seemed somewhat sad, melancholy in her voice, laced with worries. “It was five hundred years ago…” She starts.

Pidge would fall asleep to stories of grandeur, of little stubby hands and a boy of attitude, the boy of the spirits, how he’d been such an unlikely candidate, but the foolish child had accidentally bumped into Allura on the sidewalk, his tiny hands coming into contact with the orb, and how it patched into him - dooming him to a fate of eternal suffer she and world saving. 

Pidge wondered, wondered if that boy in the hole, covered in a thick ice age like cocoon was the little kid - or maybe the son of. But the boy in the cocoon had white hair, and pale skin - probably an altean from far away. 

Far, far away. 


End file.
